tinsel tears
by tinyvoice
Summary: AU 3+4 1+2 Duo invites a lonely Quatre to a Christmas party....um...yeah(sorry this is a day late)


Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing  
  
  
  
It wouldn't stop. Each ring sounded off like cannons in the cramped space of Quatre's apartment until he reluctantly dragged the phone from the receiver.  
  
"Speak thou unholy mongrel," he drawled out hoarsely. "You have about five minutes before I pass out, Duo."  
  
"Mornin' to you too hunny bunny," Duo laughed from thirty miles away. "How are you this fine morning?"  
  
Attempting furtively to pierce through the fog of a pre-dawn stupor, Quatre chanced a glance at his watch, "Oh god.it's barely four! What could you possibly want right at this moment?"  
  
Positively ecstatic at his friend's present mood, Duo began to belt out sentences at speeds he knew that his childhood friend would be incapable of processing. Then he finished out slowly, ".so, we were wondering whether you would join us for Christmas Eve. It's going to be a great party. We have a ballroom reserved in that behemoth hotel downtown."  
  
Quatre stifled a yawn, "You know I never go to parties."  
  
Duo feigned hurt and disappointment, "Yeah, but think of all the guys there- "  
  
"Precisely," Quatre cut him off. "It's like shopping on a one dollar budget, all you get is crap."  
  
"And, we'd know this how?" Duo queried sadistically.  
  
After a moment of deep thought, Quatre slurred out, "That's it. I'm not talking to you anymore." He didn't mean a word of it, but it helped to hurry his friend along to the real point of the conversation.  
  
"Hey, hey, don't do anything drastic over there. I was just really hoping that you'd help me out here.maybe play chaperone for Relena while the festivities go on? I mean.I don't want her mauling my boyfriend, and she has to be on the guest list.really.because she's the one paying for the everything."  
  
It took a moment for the weight of the task to really hit home before Quatre left out a hiss that sounded suspiciously like something far more vulgar. "I'm glad you've thought everything through. I'll go for Heero's sake."  
  
"Hey, what about my sake?" Duo huffed in mock indigence.  
  
"You don't count," Quatre countered and hung up.  
  
Later in the day, Duo forwarded everything Quatre needed to him at the office. It consisted of less than ten items:  
  
1.wear something nice  
  
2.be prepared (leash, tranquilizer darts..noose.)  
  
3.no bike!  
  
4.be there by ten  
  
5.smile dammit!  
  
Being in a far fairer mood than earlier, Quatre ran his fingers through his mop of messy blond hair and stuffed the folded piece of paper into his jacket pocket. He had a lot of work to plough through before the magic hour. He was beginning to regret assigning that last essay before the holidays.  
  
Around nine thirty, Quatre was sitting in the driver's side of his ancient mazda wondering whether he should have fabricated other plans for the night. It was too late to change his mind unless he was truly lucky and would come down with an insta-cold. No such luck, by nine forty-five, he was on his way downtown. With each traffic light, he felt more and more lead headed and began to have trouble focusing. It was always like this on the holidays. He never visited home anymore, no one ever sent him presents, and he never had the money to give gifts to others.  
  
Faster than he had expected, he found himself at the base of the snowy steps leading up to the entrance of the Renaissance. He had about three minutes to loiter around outside in the frigid air before going inside to commence the most torturous night of the year. He closed his eyes and savored the crisp winter air in his lungs and lazily opened his eyes to see his breath come out in billowy plumes. It had always delighted him since he had come to america to see his breath during the cold seasons.  
  
Deciding after a little while that it was past time for him to head inside, he did so.  
  
The interior of the hotel was far grander than he could have imagined. Gilded mirrors bedecked every wall, silver and gold ribbons hung from the ceiling, metallic glass balls were like stalactites spinning from the ceiling making their crystal designs glimmer in the soft lighting of the airy reception room. Everything was too much to take in at once, and Quatre was rendered without a mind as he just stared at all the finery. He remembered rooms like this from years ago. Before he could get swept up in the memories, a voiced hailed him from behind, "Kat!"  
  
A little surprised, he turned to find Duo and Heero sauntering towards him. Duo looked like a cat that had just eaten a mouse, while Heero looked anywhere but where he was.  
  
Quatre licked his lips and nodded his head while he covertly removed his old, worn-out coat. "Duo, Heero, this place looks splendid." Then he smiled lightly and hugged them both. "You didn't have to meet me out here, though. Shouldn't you be entertaining your guests?"  
  
Duo scratched his head a little trying to keep back a smirk that refused to be kept back so easily. "Well.ahh, they didn't seem like they needed very much entertaining." Seeing his friend's confusion, he took his hand along with his lovers and practically skipped down to the ballroom.  
  
One wouldn't guess from the outside that it would be a wallflower's hell on the inside. As soon as the ornate doors opened, a rush of rave music assaulted Quatre's ears. Bodies were crammed into clusters around the room, tables pushed aside and up against the walls. People danced and went wild in their Sunday's best. Just looking at it nauseated Quatre.  
  
"Lets have a drink," Duo suggested candidly tugging at his friend who shook his head "no" as firmly as he could manage without making himself sick. "Alright, then.well.Relena isn't here, yet, so, just go join the masses and have fun for a while."  
  
Quatre nodded and squeezed his way through the crowd to the nearest chair and sat watching everything pass with a surreal feeling enveloping him. He'd never touched a drop of alcohol in his life, and so it was quite obvious that Duo wanted to be alone with his boyfriend for a while. It was alright, and a little disheartening.  
  
Cathy kept a vice like grip on her brother's forearm as she led him to the ballroom. "Come on Trowa! You said you'd come with me to meet Duo. It's too late to back out now!"  
  
Feeling like little more than a rag doll, Trowa sped up his pace a little and kept his eyes on the hem of his sister's dress. It had cost them both a pretty penny, but Cathy had assured him that whatever they lost then would come back to them tenfold later. She never lied, though he couldn't see her logic.  
  
After a little searching, their inquiries led them to a veritably plastered Duo Maxwell and his boyfriend standing sentry a few feet away.  
  
Cathy called out over the noise of the loud -music to be rewarded with the slow turning of the braided one's head. After staring at the pair of brother and sister pensively for a minute, his face broke into a large grin. "Hey, Cathy! You brought him! One would hardly recognize him now though.I wonder if I can still do anything with him. Yo, Tro! Do you remember me? We all went to the same high-school together.hanging in different groups ofcourse, but still."  
  
It took a moment, then the memories returned. In high-school, they'd belonged to completely different social classes. Trowa had been a bookworm while Duo and his little group of the elite were the rich kids that didn't need to study. There had been one of them that looked like he didn't quite belong in there.  
  
"I remember," Trowa answered coolly.  
  
"Great!" Duo exclaimed taking another sip of his beer.  
  
Cathy hugged onto Trowa as if she were afraid of him running away and began to chat it up with Duo. "So, where is this amazing Quatre you keep telling me about?"  
  
"Oh, him?" Duo sniffed "he's around here somewhere. I'd have sent you a picture so you could spot him out if all those flyers for his band weren't outdated. They haven't played at a gig for a whole year!..I'll get him to play for you guys tonight, though. I promise. It's really cool."  
  
Cathy nodded while Trowa's eyes roved over the crowd and settled on a seraph like figure huddled down at a table looking like he'd want to be anywhere else but there at that moment. His image was simply captivating, even though the only thing that Trowa could really make out was the almost white locks of hair obscuring his eyes.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, Duo hopped down merrily from his seat with an evil giggle, "I'll go get him up there." Then he disappeared into the crowd.  
  
"He's nice," Cathy sighed.  
  
"Yeah," Trowa nodded, not fully listening to what his sister was saying. The youth he'd been staring at was gone.  
  
"Where is Relena?" Quatre asked as he was being led by Duo to who knew where.  
  
"Oh, her." Duo shrugged, "must not have been able to make it."  
  
As they neared the speakers and the DJ table, Quatre was forced to cover his ears due to the noise. Duo was shouting something, but he couldn't make it out. Then, all at once, the music stopped and he was dragged to a raised platform with a lone piano situated in the center of it.  
  
Quatre was terrified as Duo called the attention of all guests present. He knew what was coming.  
  
"Guys guys guys.quiet down.Quiet, dammit! Today is Christmas Eve, lets show some spirit. This lovely man next to me is my best friend Quatre. Many of you know him from his infamous band NewType. Now, instead of paying club fees, you get to hear him play for free! Go for it Quatre." Duo nudged him in the general direction of the piano while his friend just shook his head even as he sat down on the bench. Everyone too gone in their drunken haze readily supplied catcalls, cheers, and out of place mosh pits.  
  
Closing his eyes, Quatre tapped out a rhythm that grew steadily into a song. He was mentally running away, and even unaware of the sounds his fingers were eliciting from the ivories.  
  
Trowa stared transfixed at the familiar growing figure at the piano. That face had been forever engraved in his mind since highschool. He had never spoken beyond a few short words with Quatre, seeing as to how they had been on polar social classes. Either that, or Trowa had been rendered mute by the other's mere presence. Way back when, Quatre was a wealthy business giant's son and an accomplished one at that, while Trowa was a reclusive bookworm on the yearbook staff with an excuse to waste four rolls of film a day on his crush.  
  
To see the one he held so dearly to his heart for so long so close but so far away was nerve wracking. He couldn't tear his eyes away. Something was different, and he couldn't figure out just what it was.  
  
Just when he felt himself begin to fade, a loud voice hailed him back to reality, "Hey, Quatre! Look over here!"  
  
His eyes flew open, a big mistake. The flash of a camera came from somewhere in the crowd. And his fingers slowed as he realized what he was playing, then Duo came bounding up to the stage. He took his hands and pulled him to his feet turning him to the mercy of the party goers.  
  
Incomprehension marred Quatre's features as the room changed before his eyes to the familiar reception room of his father's autumn mansion. The crowd changed into his sisters, other family, and business friends. He recognized this, the oppression in the air, and the incredulity in everyone's faces. Someone was saying something.  
  
"What?" the deep tempered voice could only be his father's. "What, Quatre?" He was by the doors, and slowly turning to face his son. Rage blazed like an inferno in his narrow eyes.  
  
"I like men, father," Quatre said boldly raising a brow in mild defiance. Inside, he was falling apart. It showed in the tears forming in his eyes and the pinkish hue of his cheeks.  
  
His sisters, all in neat little rows looked at him and shook their heads begging him to turn back time and take it all back. They'd had everything so well under control up to then. Them wilting in their pretty gowns, and their expensive jewelry rattling with their trembling. The men in the room swallowed the bit of information with a little less feeling and a little more disapproval.  
  
"Get out," Mr. Winner spat, seething with pent up anger.  
  
"Father!" Iria cried and then clapped a hand over her mouth afraid to further provoke him.  
  
"OUT!" Mr. Winner yelled.  
  
Rather than beg for understanding or forgiveness, Quatre took his hands from the smooth lacquer of the piano and stepped down the little aisle his sisters made for him. He had to step past his father to get out of the room, and as he did so, three hateful words were uttered only for his ears, "Never come back."  
  
Finding himself back in the present, and staring bleary-eyed over the crowd, he still couldn't shake the ghostly images from that horrible day. Not knowing exactly what was expected of him that moment, and not particularly caring, he made a few hurried bows and an excuse to leave. He nearly flew from the room sending the audience into a great state of confusion before the DJ put on more music to soothe them.  
  
Trowa didn't miss the tears that everyone else had been too distraught to notice. He made a lame excuse to Cathy and ran after Quatre not entirely sure of what he'd do when he did catch up to the runaway beauty. He didn't have to run far.  
  
Quatre was standing on the steps of the Renaissance looking every bit the tragic hero. Trowa made his way down far enough to see the other's face.  
  
He was staring intently at the ground, his long lashes shadowing the illumination of his storm blue irises, his rosy full lips slightly opened, and his face overall pensive as tears rolled reluctantly down his powdery cheeks.  
  
Summoning up all his courage, Trowa called out, "Kat!" He held his breath when the other turned.  
  
Quatre's fine brows drew together as he stifled another sob. "I did it for you," he cried, a new wave of tears coursing down his face. Shoving his fear of rejection down, all his worries, and his years of self-damnation, he stumbled up to Trowa and embraced him desperately.  
  
Stunned, Trowa's arms automatically wound around the smaller one's body. The full implications of what was said didn't quite hit their mark, but the emotion did. He lifted Quatre up in his arms with ease and pressed kisses to his feathery white blond hair. Kissing every hurt away.  
  
"Merry Christmas?" he whispered.  
  
"Merry Christmas." Quatre whispered back.  
  
"We'll sort all this out tomorrow," Trowa said with assuring tones into the other's sweet smelling hair. "But, until then.I'm happy to be surprised with this present. Thank you."  
  
"No.Trowa," Quatre replied pleasantly surprising him once again. "Thank you." Then he smiled. 


End file.
